


You love me really

by karcathy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, cute little baking lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:24:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karcathy/pseuds/karcathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane helps Roxy make cupcakes. Kissing happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You love me really

You love going to Jane’s house. It’s like a home away from home, really. Sometimes you feel more at home there than in your own house. Her place is certainly more like a home, warm and friendly and, more often than not, smelling of cooking food. You always pause on the doorstep to breathe in the scent, and it feels like you’re finally home.

 

Today, Jane promised to teach you how to cook. You smile in anticipation as you ring the doorbell.

“Oh hey, Roxy!” Jane says, opening the door, “You’re early! I was just getting everything together.”

“Oops, sorry,” you say, grinning and wiping your shoes on the doormat, “I was just super pumped for all this baking shit.”  
“It’s okay, I think I’m just about ready.”

You follow her through to the kitchen, where the countertops are covered in an array of baking utensils.

“Whoa,” you say, looking around, “That’s a lot of shit.”  
She smiles, rolling her eyes.

“So what we making?” you ask, trying to figure it out from the stuff on the counters but failing dismally.

“Cupcakes!” she says, picking up a packet of cupcake cases, “With personalised icing.”

“Sweet.”

“They should be,” she jokes, and you laugh, perhaps a little too loudly.

“Okay so, where do we start?”

“First you need a large mixing bowl,” she says, handing you one, “And a wooden spoon.”  
You pick up the wooden spoon and grin, and she smiles encouragingly.

“What now?” you ask, looking down at the spoon and bowl.

“Well, I already got out the butter, and it’s pretty soft,” she says, picking up a bowl and taking off the saucer resting on it to reveal some butter, “You just need to cream it.”

You give her a questioning look, and she smiles, dumping the butter in the bowl.

“Mix it really hard,” she explains, and you grin.

“Aw, man, I can all kinds of do that,” you say, putting the bowl down on the counter and grabbing the spoon.

“It shouldn’t be too hard, the butter’s been out for a while.”

You stir in silence, an expression of extreme concentration on your face, until your arm aches.

“Okay, that’s gotta be creamy enough,” you say, poking the now-smooth butter.

“It’s perfect,” she says, reaching over for a bag of sugar, “Okay, next you’ve got to stir in the sugar.”

She tips some sugar into the bowl, not bothering to weigh it out, and you start stirring again.

“Beat it until it’s fluffy.”

“Aw, not more stirring,” you complain, sighing.

Your arm is still aching, but you set to work again.

“That should be fluffy enough,” she says, sooner than you expected, “Now it’s time to add the eggs.”

“Hell yes,” you say, grinning.

“Keep stirring, and I’ll add in the egg.”

“Aw, man, I thought the stirring was over!” you say, as she cracks some eggs into a measuring jug.

“Everything needs to be stirred,” she says, slowly pouring the egg in whilst you continue stirring, “It’s the number one rule of baking.”

“Really?”

“No, not really. I just made that up.”

“Oh. What is the number one rule, then?”

She looks thoughtful for a moment, then shrugs.

“That’s all the eggs,” she says, putting the jug down on the counter.

“Okay, what next, then?” you ask, “Is it... more stirring?”

“In a moment,” she says, smiling, “Here, hand me the sieve, will you?”

You pass it to her, and watch as she sifts flour into the bowl, again not bothering to measure it out.

“How do you do that?” you ask, as she hands you the spoon and you start stirring again.

“Do what?”

“Know how much you’ll need without measuring it.”

“Oh. Well, I don’t, exactly, I just know what’s roughly the right amount,” she says, shrugging, “Baking isn’t exactly a science. It’s more of an art.”

“Seems like a lot of chemistry to me,” you say, giggling, and she blushes.

“Okay, well, it’s time to put it in the cases!” she says, still pink in the face, and she starts to put the cases into a dimpled baking tray, “Just put a dollop of mixture in each one.”

“Like this?” you say, spooning a generous scoop of mixture into the first case, slopping some over the sides.

“Exactly,” she says, and you grin and move onto the next one.

“Hey,” you say, slopping some more onto the counter as you fill the last case, “This is pretty fun.”

“I told you so!” she says, giggling as you tap her nose with the spoon, leaving a splodge of cake mixture on the tip, “Hey, stop it!”

“Make me,” you say, scraping the bowl out with the spoon and flicking cake mixture at her.

“You got it all over my apron!” she says, pouting, and you giggle.

“Isn’t that what it’s for?”

You admire the cake-splattered apron, which reads ‘Kiss the Cook’, and giggle some more. Jane sighs and rolls her eyes, wiping her hands on a cake-free section of apron, then leans over and opens the oven door and slides the tray in. She sets up a timer to go off in 15 minutes, and you hop up onto the counter and start licking the spoon.

“Is there any cake mix left on my face?” she asks, rubbing her nose.

“Yeah, a little,” you say, glancing up.

“Where?”

“Hold on,” you say, hopping down from the counter and dropping the spoon in the bowl.

“Well?”

“Here,” you say, leaning in and licking a small blob of cake mixture off of her cheek.

“It’s really good,” you add, grinning, and she blushes.

“You shouldn’t eat cake mix,” she says, her hand creeping up to rest on her cheek, right where you licked it, “It’s got raw eggs in.”

“And I’m sure all your eggs are organic and free range and possibly home-grown,” you say, scooping up some cake mix with your finger and pressing it against her lips, “Go on.”

She rolls her eyes, but opens her mouth and licks the mixture off of your finger.

“It’ll taste better when it’s cooked,” she says, smiling.

“Prove it.”

She just laughs.

“Okay, what about icing?” you ask, hopping back up onto the counter, “Are we making icing?”

“Not ‘til they’re done cooking,” she says, shaking her head, “They need to cool a bit before we can ice them.”

“Can we make pink icing? The nice buttery one?”

“I should think so,” she says, with a little smile, and you grin.

“So what do we do for the next...” you check the timer, “Twelve minutes?”

She shrugs, and says “You think of something.”

“I think I can think of something,” you say, with a sly smile.

“Oh?” she says, raising one eyebrow.

“You need to stay right there, okay?”

She nods, and you hop down off the counter and stand right in front of her, a little nervously.

“Now close your eyes.”

She does, looking slightly confused, and you take a deep breath. You start to lean in, and she starts to open her mouth, as if to say something, and you stop her by gently pressing your lips against hers, in what can barely be called a kiss. Her eyes snap open and she gasps, stepping backwards, and you can feel your face turning bright red.

“Sorry,” you mutter, staring at your feet, “That was stupid.”

“Just a little... unexpected,” she says, laughing shakily, and you smile.

“Sorry,” you repeat, taking a half-step backwards.

“No, it’s okay,” she says, taking your hand, “You just took me by surprise.”

“I should probably go,” you say, turning towards the door.

“No, don’t!” she says, taking your other hand and pulling you back towards her, “What about the cupcakes?”

You laugh, a little hoarsely, and she leans in and kisses you, cutting your laughter short. Your eyes widen and you freeze for a moment before kissing her back. Carefully, she drops your hands and slides hers around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Sorry,” she says, pulling away and smiling, “I really was just surprised.”

“For a moment, I thought I ruined our friendship,” you say, gently pushing her hair back off of her face.

“Consider this friendship ruined,” she says, and you giggle.

“Care to ruin it a little more?” you ask, bumping your nose against hers.

She answers you with a kiss, and you lose track of time for a few minutes, until the timer interrupts you. You pull away and she grins.

“Time to get the cupcakes out!” she says, pulling the oven open and grabbing some oven gloves.

“Wow, they look great!” you say, as she slides them onto a wire rack, “Now can we make icing?”

“Sure,” she says, grabbing some butter and icing sugar and dumping them in a bowl, “Here, stir this. I’ll get the food colouring.”

You start stirring, pausing when she returns to add some water and a few drops of red food colouring.

“Can we ice them now?” you ask, as soon as the icing is smooth.

“Hmm,” she says, peering at the bowl, “Okay.”

You slop generous spoonfuls of icing on top of all the cupcakes, and then start to lick the spoon.

“Don’t I get some?” she asks, teasingly.

“All right,” you say, smearing some on her lips and then kissing it off, “Now you taste as sweet as you are!”

“Stop it, you,” she says, taking the spoon off of you and bopping you on the nose with it, and then licking the back.

“So when do we get to try the cakes?” you ask, scraping some icing out of the bowl with your fingers.

“When we’re done clearing up.”

“I’ll clean the bowl!” you say, picking it up and licking the inside.

She rolls her eyes and starts gathering up the dirty utensils.

“You can do the washing up,” she says, with a stern expression.

“Aw, I hate washing up.”

“The cupcakes are worth it,” she says, smiling and dumping the utensils in the sink.

“I’ll do it for a kiss,” you say, adding some washing up liquid.

“I’ll give you two.”

You lean in and she stops you with a finger.

“Uh-uh,” she says, “When you’re done washing up.”

“Meanie,” you say, sticking your tongue out.

“You love me really.”

You can’t argue with that.


End file.
